I was in 1st grade so I don’t remember much, but I do remember their faces. My teacher Ms. Lee who was always a ray of sunshine all of a sudden terrified with tears rushing down her face. The kids around me all looking confused, not sure what was going on. One-by-one parents came, dragging their kids out of class. When my mother came for me she wouldn’t say a word, she just hugged me and cried, I had never seen my mother cry before. We got to the car, raced home so that she could call my dad and let him know that she had me. I don’t remember what they were saying but I do remember hearing my grandmother’s name a lot, she worked in the city as a teacher. On a normal day she didn’t seem so far away, an hour tops, but that day she might as well have been in Africa because there was no way we could get to her. Finally we got the call. She had made it. Luckily her school was far enough away that she wasn’t close to the twin towers. When she got home she grabbed me and wouldn’t let go, she kept kissing my forehead. To this day she will tell you, “I hated that feeling, knowing what we knew, those little kids in front of me, with their tears running down their face onto their papers. Not knowing if their parents were alive.” That was the day I decided I wanted to be a teacher.